


The Captain Is In Full Agreement

by TellMeNoAgain



Series: Avengers UnPacked [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Male Omega, Mating Bites, Multi, Omega Verse, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23953267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/pseuds/TellMeNoAgain
Summary: Look, people are still encouraging me to have fun in this A/B/O AU, so that's what I'm doing. You haters leave me alone. It's playtime.  STEAMY playtime.~~~
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Avengers UnPacked [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623790
Comments: 24
Kudos: 93





	The Captain Is In Full Agreement

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is what happens when I read a recommended story that turns into reading TEN A/B/O fics, find out that there are no RULES for this shit, and decide, "Well, fuck it, if everyone's having fun in this sandbox, I'm going to, too."
> 
> You don't have to like it, I promise. But I had a whole lot of fun writing it.
> 
> Beta'd by my brave jf4m and mindwiped, who are easily the most courageous people on the planet, because I threw this at them and said JESUS CHRIST I DON'T EVEN KNOW. I'M SORRY, and then they corrected my spelling and caught my errors like the pros they are, anyway.
> 
> I've put links to the fics I read to learn about A/B/O in the end notes of the first story.
> 
> Every remaining mistake and all the broken things about the rules of this AU belongs to me. Me and 3 AM, baby.
> 
> HEY! I MADE IT TO HALF A MILLION WORDS POSTED ON AO3!! I feel like that should be, like, an award. For baby authors. I just started in December, it's only been, what, 5 months? That's a hundred thousand words a month! That's great, right? OR AT LEAST PRETTY GOOD, for someone who was pretty damn nervous to post that first story...

Tony watches from the suit cam as Steve presses the filters into his ears and nose, grimacing. “Good Alpha,” he breathes, because Steve hates the filters, hates how they steal all the data from the world around him. He’s such a tactician, he thrives on that data, and he complains that they blind him. But the Quinjet is being pumped full of omega scent and Tony can catch Peter’s crooning low voice as he straddles the cocooned figure on the floor.

He watches as the tension bleeds out of Steve’s shoulders and his jaw unclenches. He breathes a little easier, himself, watching Steve relax just a little. There’s a good chance this is going to work, his plan, there’s a good chance they’ll actually be bringing the assasi- Bucky. It’s _Bucky_ they’ll be bringing back to the Tow- home. They’ll be bringing Bucky home. Steve’s Pack Second, the sidekick drinking sidecars, Tony has his action figure in a chest somewhere in the old mansion still. Covered in dirt, it had gone everywhere with him. Captain America hadn’t been safe, hadn’t been a good best friend for the lonely little guy he’d been as a kid, but Bucky Barnes?

He’s not sure what he’s supposed to feel now that he knows Bucky Barnes killed his mom. He has definitely not had enough therapy to be in touch with those emotions.

“Five minutes,” says the cold voice of Natasha over the speakers.

“I’ll- I’ll go get Wanda,” offers Harley.

“Excellent,” says Pepper, tightening her arms around Tony, her chin digging into his shoulder. “Have her meet us at the landing pad.” They breathe for a moment, him and Pepper, and then she says, “Talk to me, Tony.” 

She knows about the action figure best friend, of course.

“Tell you what,” says Tony, twitching in her arms, “let’s not do that. Let’s not talk. Let’s just- look, Steve’s coming in hot, he’s all wound up. I’ve got to take care of that and then, then we can talk.”

“Yeah, no,” says Pepper easily, “there’s no way I’m sending you up there like this. He can come get you. We’re going to our nest, now. He can come crawl in, JARVIS, you hear me?” 

“Excellent plan, Ms. Potts,” agrees JARVIS, the traitor. “The Captain is in full agreement.”

“So talk, Tony,” says Pepper firmly. “And then we’ll go up to the nest.”

“What do you want me to say?” asks Tony in a strange small voice he’s never heard.

“Tony, that was _Bucky_ ,” Pepper murmurs in his ear, her voice quiet and filled with aching pain for him, for Steve.

“Yeah,” he sighs back at her, scrubbing their cheeks together. Sometimes he wishes she had a scent other than beta-clean, something he could roll around in, coat on his skin, remind him that she’s always there. “Yeah, I don’t think it was a clone, he _knew_ Steve.”

“Do we need to call someone to come get him? SHIELD?”

Tony snorts and says, “Look, I’m done giving my toys to Nick, he just breaks them. I’m definitely not giving him my favorite action figure.”

“Xavier, then,” suggests Pepper. “He helped Logan.”

“Since when are you on a first name basis with _Wolverine_?” accuses Tony, ignoring the glimmer of hope that he could pass this all off to someone more qualified to deal with it. “What- what have you been up to, Pepper Potts? The man is a psychotic murdering outlaw felon!”

“So’s Steve’s best friend,” points out Pepper, ruthless. “And we’re bringing _him_ home. Unless you tell me to call Xavier.”

There’s a pause and then Tony mutters, “Don’t call Xavier. Not- not yet, anyway, let’s let the Witch try, see if she can do any good.”

Pepper’s arms tighten around his chest, familiar and comforting. Tony lets himself be a little comforted. 

“Arrival in one minute,” informs Natasha dispassionately.

“That’s our cue,” Pepper tells Tony, pushing them both to a standing position. “C’mon, time to nest up and wait for Steve.”

“I am not infirm,” he tells her. “I can handle-”

“Don’t, please,” she sighs, giving him the eyebrow raise he hates and the wry grin he loves, the love in her eyes gentling the words from command to entreaty. “No one is saying you can’t handle it. We’re saying, you don’t have to. There’s no need for you personally to greet them, and you know it, and you know I’m right, so c’mon. Nest. Get ready for Steve, I’ll be sending him to you hot from that flight over.”

“He might not come,” Tony tells her seriously, as she pushes him into a walk. 

“Tony, there are very few constants in my world,” she sighs. “One of them is taxes, one of them is how good you look in a tux-” Tony can’t help preening just a little because that is true- “and the last one is that Steve needs you every _second_ of every day.” 

Tony opens his mouth to protest and she holds up a hand to finish uninterrupted, “He’s really good at not acting on it, he’s like the champ at fighting back his instincts, but he could not be more Alpha and you are the most Omega person I’ve ever met and that means he’s going to step off that plane, make sure Bucky is in good hands, and come get what he needs. Which is _you_.”

Tony swallows and tells her accusingly, “I wasn’t going to admit that I need him right now”

“I know,” she says, her voice fond and her eyes kind, pausing outside of their door. “Get in, Tony. Alpha’s coming for you.”

~~~

The Quinjet’s hatch opens and Steve’s eyes, glued to Peter who is straddling Bucky, flinch up to the hatch, where Natasha descends quickly. She turns to him and strides closer, confident and calm, assured. “Tony,” she says quietly. “He needs you.”

Steve jerks forward a step, stopping himself abruptly, forcing himself to say, “I know, but Buck-”

“I got them,” she tells him, brutal in her efficiency. The cool clipped words cut through the mess of emotion swirling inside him. “The Pack can handle this, we all know the plan, Wanda’s ready to get to work. Peter’s shown he can control the man, his webs are holding him. We can do this. No one else can address Tony.”

Steve wants to hear that, he does, he wants his Omega like a knife-wound, now, doubling him over, has needs and wants that aren’t rational. The suggestions his hindbrain throws up in front of him aren’t based on logic but on pure emotion, emotion and hormone and Natasha is watching, her face impassive, as she says, still so damnably calm, “Alphas don’t get shock sick, Steve. But that doesn’t mean shock can’t cripple you. And that doesn’t mean the Pack ignores your needs. The Pack exists for this. Go to Omega. We can handle this.”

“I got him,” pants Peter from his straddle above Bucky on the floor, his wrist caught between Bucky’s teeth, his eyes dilated as the man does- something- to the secondary scentpads located there. “Promise, Alpha, we can do this. Go take care of Omega.”

“You watch Peter,” he directs Natasha, jaw clenching. “You make sure he gets what he-” images flash through his mind, a sickening scroll of the things his hindbrain wants to do to the omega who smells so good- “what he needs,” he finishes firmly. 

Her eyes acknowledge the state he’s in and she says, quietly, “My filters are in, Steve. I’ll take care of him, too. I’m in control.”

Steve nods. He’s- he’s still in control, right now, he’s not acting on any of the thoughts- the things his hindbrain wants to do, the things he _knows_ Peter would let him do, good little ommy that he is. He takes a deep breath and then tries one more time, “I’m in control, I don’t need-”

“Maybe you don’t,” interrupts Natasha. “Maybe you don’t, Alpha, but Omega needs you. This is what Pack does, why Pack exists. Go.”

Steve blows out a breath and then nods. He trusts his Pack, he trusts Natasha. Peter is clearly competent at- his hindbrain suggests so many things that Peter is clearly competent at, enough so that he swallows and chokes and thinks firmly of _Tony_. His hindbrain leaps at the suggestion, and his feet carry him past Peter and out of the jet on doubletime, thinking of all the ways his mate is _competent_.

He rips out the filters as soon as he’s clear of the jet. He hates the blasted things, how they blind him, how the world goes flat and he can’t _read_ anyone. He tosses them in the trashcan Tony installed just for him, years ago, for just this moment, because he’s predictable, apparently, and because… because Tony thinks of things like that, little things.

Sam meets him at the door and says, “Pepper got Tony to the nest, I got Nat’s back, we got this, man.” Steve nods because thank God for betas, competent betas who don’t ever, ever get caught up in hormone surges like this, competent betas who stay cool and calm even when Steve can _smell_ himself.

Clint is standing there, and Steve pauses a moment because Harley’s next to Clint and Harley has a black eye. “Who?” he growls, approaching Harley quickly. Clint takes a step in front of Harley and says, urgently, “Puppy play, he tripped. He’s been icing it and I’ve got it, Steve. Tony needs you.”

Yes. Yes. Tony needs him. Omega. Clint smiles, carefully close lipped, he’s a good beta, he reminds Steve of so many good betas in their unit, Bucky and his unit, their old unit- Clint nods his head and interrupts Steve’s chain of thought to say, “Go on, Alpha, Pack’s got it. Omega needs you.”

“I’m fine, Steve,” adds Harley firmly, gesturing down the hall towards Tony’s nest. “Go on. Tony needs you.”

 _Tony needs you_ becomes Tony-needs-you Tony-needs-you, a chant and a pull in his blood, bringing him straight to the door of their room- Tony’s nest- like an iron file to a magnet. Pepper pulls open the door and gasps, “Steve, Alpha,” and smiles at him, looking him up and down. “Perfect,” she purrs, grabbing for his hand, drawing him into the room. “You’re exactly what he needs, isn’t that right, my love? Tony?”

“Alpha,” calls Tony from the nest, and Steve’s whole body jolts to the sound of that voice- that _voice_ , does Tony know what it does to him? Does he know how lucky- how much- Steve needs to hear it, hear his name, on that tongue, shaped by those lips?

Steve stalks over to the comfortable pile of pillows and cushions and blankets on the floor, organized and re-organized according to some logic he and Pepper discuss but can never follow. Tony is reclined in the center, a vision in a band t-shirt and the tight leggings he only wears so that Steve can rip them off of him. He smiles up at Steve in delight and says, “Good Alpha, come here.”

Steve swallows helplessly, feeling Pepper’s hands push at his uniform, press open the fastenings, help him to slip out of it. His hands clench and unclench as he struggles for control, struggles to be Alpha, here, where he rides out ruts, with these two people, who have taught him so much, shared so much. He pushes his hindbrain back, wrestles with it, while he stares at Tony. Tony smiles up at him, a real smile, a true smile, and says, “Next six hours, we don’t talk, that’s my deal. Take it or leave it.”

Steve’s learned you never take the first deal a Stark offers you, no matter how good it sounds. You always hold out for more, for better, because they’ll deliver. “Eight,” he counters, because he can’t think of other terms to argue, he can’t _think_ at all right now. His hindbrain isn’t even all that interested in numbers, throwing up suggestions of all of the things he needs to do with his knot, right now, to this omega, and later, to the beta who is peeling him out of his tactical gear with calm, cool, crisp efficiency.

“Seven,” says his omega, fast and confident. God, Tony’s confidence is the sexiest thing about him- confident in the beginning, when Steve didn’t know- didn’t have any experience, didn’t- couldn’t- the woman undressing Steve blows out her breath and Steve knows he’s missed something, missed something important, but he can’t help it. Tony’s in the nest, the nest where he splays his limbs during heat, open and receptive and hot- he burns up with fever, so hot, so fucking wet and smells-so-good and- 

“Yes,” grunts Steve, stepping forward as his pants pool at his feet, stepping out of the boots Pepper has loosened while he looked down at his omega. Tony’s smile is slightly mocking but Steve doesn’t care. It won’t be for long, he’s learned that. He’s learned how to Alpha for this omega and it involves ignoring the mockery because what’s underneath it is beautiful and vulnerable and Steve is going to bite that scent gland until it bleeds, bury himself inside the omega and-

“Deal,” murmurs Tony, holding Steve’s head in his hands, tilting Steve’s face, just a little, just enough to turn him aside and make him kiss Tony, first. His pushy Omega, how he loves the way Tony ticks. Loves the ways Tony guides him and challenges him, loves the taste of his lips and the sweet scent of desire that fills his head, loves- loves- Steve kisses his omega enthusiastically- any excuse, at this point, to get any part of his body buried inside the man- until Tony chuckles. 

“Alpha,” says Tony huskily, and Steve pants against his mouth, against his cheek, his head drifting lower and lower, closer to that sweet scent that means home, home and comfort and all the nice sweet things an Alpha like Steve probably doesn’t deserve. He’s more animal than man, he knows that, even now, as he slips, as he slips into the scent and flavor of his omega, his sweet omega. Sweetest little thing in the world, beneath him, right- right where Steve wants him, right where he can- 

“Alpha,” begs Tony, and Steve marvels, again, at this man, _this_ man, begging for him, begging _Steve_ , this man who has seen so much and done so much, who knows so much more than Steve ever will, who wants Steve. Tony Stark, and all that name means, begging for _Steve_. 

“Need,” grunts Steve, finding the word and pressing it into Tony’s scent pad with slow, thick kisses, releasing so much scent and flavor into his mouth that his eyes flutter shut, to experience more of it. 

Tony pants back up at him, “Whatever- whatever you want, Steve, seriously, mostly joking about seven hours, but fuck, Alpha, _need_ you.” Too many words, but that _voice_ , his name in that _voice_. His omega, panting, writhing underneath him, pressing up, wanting, scenting like- like-

“Knot,” growls Steve, to the only person who’s ever engulfed him, ever lifted hips and slid around Steve, snug and tight and wet and warm. It’s a warning, of sorts, and the best Steve can do, because Tony smells _terrific_. There’s a hint of sadness, of fear, of confusion, but it’s fading fast into the most mind-meltingly turned-on pure vanilla sweetness Steve has ever had up his nose. His teeth tug at Tony’s neck, small little bites, softening up the skin, just a little, hints of what’s to come.

“In, sweetheart,” whispers Tony, shifting his clothes, moving them out of Steve’s way, and that’s so good, such a good ommy, Steve rumbles, just a bit. Just enough so the ommy knows, knows how good- so good- skin so soft, scent so sweet. Steve’s aware that he’s rubbing, rutting against the man’s body, and he loves it, loves the way the scent of his own arousal is slowly tangling around the sweet smell of the man, until the only thing he can smell is sex- his omega’s arousal and his own response.

“G-god, Steve,” mutters his omega in his ear. “G-get in, need- need you. Stop playing around.”

But the omega’s not in charge, Steve is. He scruffs the omega, his omega, hard, because _no talking_ , and especially _no talking back_. Not now. Not when he smells like that, looks like that, under Steve. No talking, no thinking- he doesn’t need to list the rules, his demands, doesn’t have to find words for them, because nature has given him so many tools- the scruff, the bite, the rub of scent pads together. So many tools for bringing his omega to the state that Steve needs him in, pliant and giving, so giving, so receptive.

Tony. _Tony_. “Tony,” he mutters, fingers swirling through the slick, sliding in, God, sliding through, checking, releasing the scent of wet wildness into the air that clogs his throat and makes him gasp against his omega’s neck.

“Shh,” soothes Tony, arching up to meet him, groaning and grunting and trembling, so ready and ripe and Steve thinks, not for the first time, of that taut belly rounded with pups, full of him, full of their future. His fingers twist, checking, clutching at the wet warm flesh, diving in, dipping into his, his, all for him, _his_ , as Tony gasps, “In, Alpha, in, ‘m ready, I promise, you need me, you need- I need-”

“Need,” agrees Steve, shifting his weight above Tony, lifting up to watch his oma’s eyes, good Oma, good, so sweet, so giving, so _ready_.

“Fuck,” swears Tony, as he does every time Steve lines up, his eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed. So pretty, so sweet, pliant, ready. _Ready_.

“Good,” Steve tells him, because it’s true, because the man needs to hear it, needs to hear it now, needs to _know_ \- be told, over and over. Over and over and over and over- Steve’s hips are thrusting to that rhythm, the tip teasing his oma, causing a new gush of wet slick. Steve growls lowly as the sound and the scent fills the nest, watches his oma’s eyes dilate just that little bit more, that bit extra, lose their edge and go soft, soft and pliant, soft and _ready._ _Now_ , thinks Steve, and presses inside, one long quick stroke, burying himself as fast as he can into home and comfort and sweet and soft.

Tony groans, and bucks up, and Steve’s lips snarl the word, “Good,” again, as he shifts back and thrusts forward, home and comfort, sweet and soft wrapping around him and his oma begging without words, whining and groaning, shifting, thrusting, pliant, so giving, so needy.

“A-alpha,” mumbles his oma, his sweet one, red faced and gasping with need. Steve kisses those lips, those pink petals that taste of Tony and sweet, and growls back at the man, “Need.” He thrusts and thrusts, mindless of anything but the comfort of the soft silky warmth, as the oma gasps and releases more wet, soaking them both. This is their desperate dance, their tangle that won’t last long, Steve can feel it, he can feel the way the oma _needs_ , he knows that whine, he knows the way the hands clutch at his arms.

Not long, oma. Not long. “Give,” he growls into the man’s ear, chewing the earlobe softly, gently, with his sharp teeth, making his oma cry out because oma knows- oma knows where Steve will be with his teeth next.

“Take,” mumbles his oma, mindless now, no more words, no more fancy words, begging with body and breath, his, just his, his to _take_. 

Steve ruts some more, enjoying the way his oma begs for release, begs for what he needs, small aching twists of his hips, little moans, panting as Steve’s length parts through his wet heat, drives into him, _takes_. He feels so good, so wet, the scent of him so sweet there is drool building in Steve’s mouth. _Now_ , Steve thinks, as his oma presses up, keening just a little in need, his prick hard and heavy, caught between them as Steve presses into his body, again, again, _again_.

He nuzzles the scentpad with his fading bondbite once, just once, and feels his oma take a deep breath in anticipation, nod frantically against the pillows, against Steve’s cheek, nod and nod, words lost, _good_. 

_Now._ He bites down, hard, feeling the rush of saliva, knowing that this is good, somehow, that the saliva is good, it does- something- makes the oma feel- makes the oma _his_. Makes Tony _his_.

His mouth floods with all the delicious hormones and he swallows, rutting deeper, deeper, feeling his knot fill, finally, fill and _stick_ , in all that slick wetness, stick, at last. He listens to the sounds of his oma begging without words, whines and grunts and choked gasps, his body trembling and pressing down, down on the knot that fills him, and up, up on the bite that holds him in place for Steve. Steve ruts into his warmth, stuck, stuck inside, creating small vibrations down the length of their joined flesh as the oma gasps and gasps, and releases the scent that means he’s so close, so close.

Steve is close, too, rutting roughly up, shivering them together, feeling his knot fill impossibly more, more, as his oma’s flesh tightens, so close, tightens and quivers, and it’s that- the quivering of his oma’s near-release, that pushes Steve over the edge. He gasps, releasing his bite, and roars out a shout, driving down as he begins to spend himself. 

Tony shoves up into him, bucking wildly, moaning, and spends all over his stomach, becoming almost as wet outside as he feels inside, his muscles clamping down on Steve’s length and knot almost painfully tight, forcing more, forcing Steve to expel more, to give him more, to take more, rutting wildly and shaking both of their frames in his long release. 

Steve holds himself up on his arms and pants, grunting with every small thrust, watching Tony toss his head, shift, and moan, as Steve’s release fills him and fills him. Tony’s eyes are shut- they always are, at this moment- and Steve looks his fill, looks down in wonder and love, eyes tracing the new bondbite at his throat, red and puffy, already purpling. He’ll add more yet tonight, if he knows them. Tony won’t be sated this easily, and there’s Pepper too, practical Pepper, who is even now, he’s aware, standing nearby with towels and the washbasin. He dips his head down and licks at the bite, because he loves the way it makes Tony keen, keen and thrust and tremble and shake. His beautiful oma- ommy, now, Tony mocks him for the old-fashioned oma that slips out. His beautiful, wild, ommy, who lets him take and take and who gives and gives.

After more long moments, licking at the bite, feeling Tony clench around him and gasp, his orgasm trembling through his limbs, Steve smiles and pulls back, stretching, thrusting just a little to help release just, just a little more, just to fill his ommy, fill him full, watch the man’s belly go a little taut with slick and seed, trapped in by the knot. Tony’s face is tortured and beautiful, trapped in his orgasm, skin shivering and muscles seizing at random. Steve has watched this show with delight for years, the play of passion across his omega’s features, and he knows, by the sudden laxness, the deep gasp, exactly when Tony will open his eyes. _Now_ , he thinks with satisfaction, and lets his smugness show on his face.

“Alpha,” whispers Tony, his hands coming up to Steve’s chest, to press there before slipping up, pulling Steve to him. Steve’s heart thrills and he releases- impossibly- more seed, another spurt. His good ommy, his soft and sweet thing, his home and his comfort. “Alpha,” whispers Tony, licking at Steve’s scentpads, nuzzling them, nipping at them in contentment.

“Ommy,” he tells Tony, because if he says oma, the man will laugh, and Steve will have to press him down and make him beg, again, and that will happen soon enough, it really will.

“Mine,” purrs Tony, tangling his legs around Steve’s, changing his angle and drawing Steve’s length, impossibly, a little deeper, seating the knot more firmly. Steve gasps, and feels more seed slip from his body as Tony clenches along his knot and length. “Give,” Tony demands, licking a lewd stripe up Steve’s scentpads, his cheek, to his temple, before pressing a kiss there and nibbling his way back down, small bites and kisses intermingled at random along the path.

“Take,” growls Steve, shoving himself in deeper, in this new angle. Tony gasps, and then chuckles, no doubt feeling the new release deep inside him, as Steve gives him more.

He feels spent, used up, dry, but he knows it won’t last. It has never lasted, not when his omega is like this, needy like this, not when he’s like this, on the edge of an unscheduled rut. It tinges his scent, and he looks into Tony’s smug grin as the man lays back on the pillow and watches him, and knows that Tony has caught it, too.

“Mine,” Tony teases him.

“Yours,” agrees Steve a little ruefully, thrusting helplessly up into all of that warm wetness. Comfort. Home. Omega.

“So close to rut,” gasps Tony. “Want to- want me to- push?”

It’s like Tony to offer, thinks Steve with wonder. It’s like Tony to offer up his body, his life for the next few days, to let Steve find that release, ride those hormones, feel that rush. “Don’t need it,” he grunts, his eyes hot and heavy on the taut lines of Tony’s neck, eyeing up the bondbite and admiring how quickly it’s purpling, the skin swelling up. “Got what I need.”

“God, Steve,” groans Tony, shifting, “You say- the most fucking _sexy_ things-”

Pepper makes a small noise of agreement and they both turn slowly to look at her, grinning and panting, still locked together. “So fucking sexy,” she informs them, her cheeks flushed. “I am the luckiest beta in the world.”

“Lucky girl,” Steve tells her, and licks his lips. She surges forward, grabbing his face and laying a deep kiss, her small mouth feeling greedy, feeling good. This is why betas, Steve thinks in a daze, as he spills again into Tony, grunting into the kiss. _This_ is why betas, as she pulls away, gasping, and leans down to kiss Tony, press praises against his lips, reassures him that he’s so good, it was so good, Tony looks amazing on Steve’s knot.

He does. That’s not the point, though, the point is _Pepper,_ her clean beta scent and sweet lips and skin flushed with passion, sliding between them, wiping Tony’s sticky release off of Steve’s abs and Tony’s slightly rounded stomach. She pats there, proprietary, rubbing a little, and telling Tony, “God, when you’re fat with his pups, can you imagine? Please imagine it, Steve,” and making both men groan and tremble a little. She laughs at them, sweet and simple laughter, enjoying their responses, throwing a blanket over both of them when they shiver, their sweat cooling their skin.

Steve shifts, as much as he’s able, to press down against Tony, resting his weight on his forearms, shifting them up and under the man’s shoulders. He knocks their foreheads together and he takes a deep breath to say, “Yeah. Okay.”

Tony makes a noise of inquiry, and he shifts deep inside Tony, feeling the liquid slosh of seed and slick against his length like warm silk. He opens his eyes to stare down at the omega, whose pupils are blown wide again, whose face looks up in vulnerable need, shocking Steve with the depth of anxious stress, there.

“Yes, Tony,” says Steve, because Tony is imagining all kinds of things, all kinds of things he meant and didn’t mean, and direct is the way, with Tony, to cut through all of those maybe-maybe-nots Tony builds with lightning fast speed. “As soon, as soon as you want. I- your pups, yes, as soon, as soon as you want.”

And then he steels himself, because he gets it wrong with Tony, sometimes, even now, even years after their first kiss, their first fight. He gets things wrong, and this is- this is a huge thing. But there’s been signs, there have been, recent signs that have made him think- made him hope- They didn’t talk about it, at first, but sometime, sometime between Peter moving in and Harley accepting the Pack, the jokes started, the teasing. The thoughts- little omegas with Steve’s blue eyes and Tony’s flashing smile, little alphas bold and brilliant. And he’s seen how Tony has begun looking at women with whelps, when they go out. Tony teases him that it’s Steve’s fear holding them back, but… Tony’s never asked him, either. Tony’s the one who’s gone decades, loudly arguing that he doesn’t need to be bred.

“Yeah, okay, Alpha,” whispers Tony, his face frozen in shock, tinged with awe and fear, a mirror, Steve would guess, for his own. His brave oma- ommy- swallows, and nods, as if this is a mission debriefing, as if Steve has just asked him to suit up and save the day, before saying, “You can- next heat, no suppressants.”

“No,” squeals Pepper, wrapping her arms around Steve, kissing Tony’s cheek. “Really, Tony? Really? Steve?!”

Steve stares down at his omega, full of his seed and safe, so safe, in this nest he builds for Steve, for Steve and for Pepper and for himself. This nest where they rut and Tony endures his heats. His perfect omega, his Tony, who he fights with and learns from and couldn’t imagine living without. “Tony,” he murmurs back, and he knows there are tears in his eyes, tears that will likely get him mocked at some future date, but he’d taken Tony knowing the omega hadn’t wanted pups, had gone decades without wanting them, and was approaching a time when he wouldn’t be able to have them. He’d known that, he’d respected it, he’d sewn his soul to the other man’s patchwork, bonded them tightly, never expecting-

Tony nods, a tremulous smile on his lips and Steve has to- has to- he dips his head and presses firm kisses there, on those petal lips, those beautiful petal lips that taste of Tony, taste of omega, so sweet, such as sweet oma. “You are going to be the best,” Steve whispers, as Pepper rubs Tony’s belly and nuzzles Tony’s shoulder. “You are- Tony. I am going to do everything for your pups, for our pups, I will, Tony- I-”

“I get it,” chuckles Tony. “I- you don’t have to-”

“I do-” Steve protests, shutting him up with more kisses, burrowing as deep as he can into Tony’s flesh. “I do, you’re talking _pups_ , Tony, you- I need you to know-”

Tony pulls back and looks up, seriously, into Steve’s eyes. “I do know,” he says simply, all of his fears and certainties flashing across his face, a reminder of how far they’ve come, how much they’ve grown, what they’ve built between them, that he can say this, now. “I _know_ , Steve.”

Steve thought he loved this man yesterday, he thought he loved this man this morning, and he thought, when he walked into this room and saw him there, lying there in the nest, he thought he couldn’t love him more. Buried deep in his open warmth, spending his passion inside that sweet flesh, he’d thought he loved this man.

But that was nothing, nothing, to this moment.

“Omega,” he whispers, kissing those petal lips, nipping at them.

“Alpha,” agrees Tony, sighing a little tremulously. Steve kisses him tenderly, because it’s- it’s a lot, in so few words, it’s- it’s a lot, and Steve knows it.

“Pups,” squeals Pepper, patting Tony’s belly gently. “JARVIS, when’s Tony’s next heat, already? Should Steve stop the suppressants tonight? Oh my God, Tony, do you want me to stop mine? Do you want to- we could, together?”

Tony and Steve’s eyes both pop open in alarm. She laughs at them as their heads whip over to look at her and their arms reach out to pull her to them, covering her in kisses.

“God, Pep, would you? Do you want-? Me or him?” asks Tony, rapid-fire, breathless.

“Him,” declares Steve, and then, thinking about it, “Or me, close-sib litter, yeah?”

“Practice,” decides Tony. “We need to- Steve, get out, get- soften up, I need to practice on this woman. She’s amazing, and she needs a whelp and I don’t deserve either one of you but we need to practice, I need to-”

Pepper is laughing as Steve kisses her shoulder helplessly, declaring, “I don’t care- close-sibs either way, yeah? A whole litter, just for me, how is this my life, how do I have you two, offering me-”

“Aww, look, he’s going Alpha stupid,” teases Tony. “You can watch his eyes just glaze over at the thought of new Pack to protect.”

JARVIS interrupts to say, “Captain Magnificent has three days to stop the suppressants to give them time to flush out of his system before your next heat in three weeks, Mx. Stark. Ms. Potts, you will need to stop immediately and perhaps consult your physician regarding boosters. Especially if you’d like Tony to be the father.”

All three of them burst into laughter, as Steve and Pepper’s hands tangle together to rub Tony’s stomach in awe. “Should we?” asks Pepper in a small voice, trailing their fingers in tiny circles on the taut skin there.

“We should,” says Steve with confidence, smiling at her.

“Oh, sure, believe the confident Alpha,” complains Tony. “But when _I_ suggest it-“

“Tony, you were in high heat,” laughs Pepper, turning to kiss him and scold him, “you know you say the most ridiculous things to get me to touch you when you’re that deep in heat.”

“Beta-“ begins Tony, but Pepper shifts to straddle him, sudden and shocking, smiling over her shoulder at Steve before teasing Tony, “Practice makes perfect, little mama. You want to be the daddy, you better start impressing me, ommy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” breathes Tony, his face alight as Steve shifts them all into a position that will _work_ with his knot still buried in Tony’s warmth. Pepper glides under his hands and Tony’s eyes roll up as her hips twitch along his length.

Steve chuckles against her back, releasing Tony’s thighs to cup her breasts and placing reverent kisses along her spine. “Gonna make us do all the work,” he chuckles, and while Tony splutters some half-voiced protest, Pepper replies wryly, “Learn how to change dirty diapers, Captain, you know we’re going to be hip deep in them while he invents baby suits. Some things change, but our Tony?” She pauses to lift herself up and sink down on Tony’s mostly-erect dick, her balance aided by Steve’s strong and steady grip on her hips. “Never,” she finishes, as Tony gasps and Steve grunts as Tony’s flesh’s tightens in waves along his knot, squeezing convulsively.

So it’s not quite seven hours without talking, in the end, but it's still so very good, Steve's not going to argue that Tony reneged on his deal. They break once for food and once for Pepper to send a message to her doctor, informing the beta that she’ll need a consult the next morning The last of the urge to take and touch is sated long into the night, near the earliest part of morning, when Pepper’s breath evens out to match Tony’s, and Steve lies there, legs entwined with both of them, carefully not thinking of anything except how tired he is, how empty. How full of hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to shout out in the comments so I know you're okay. I'll try to respond to everyone because I know feeling that human connection is important right now!!
> 
> Looking for a hit of this universe while you wait for me?! Check out Orchidaexa’s Daredevil, Deadpool, and Spidey story, written in this AU: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073085


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